


Supernatural: Into Darkness

by mirants



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirants/pseuds/mirants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Klingons are causing trouble again, but this time God decides to send the Enterprise a little help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Thanks for reading! We're really glad you've stopped by our first co-written fic. No, we don't know how long it'll be, but we're thinking somewhere near 20K. Who knows? We're planning to update every two weeks. Oh and don't forget to check out our tumblrs. Our user names are numba1fanatic and fanndists. Feel free to contact us for fic recs or just general conversation at any time. And please don't be afraid to leave us a review! Input is greatly appreciated. Have a great day/night!

The Klingons were at it again, but this time on a much larger scale. Normally they just took out a key cargo ship or two, going for low-risk operations. They were a major pain in the ass, yes, but not more than any Constitution-class vessel could handle. They knew the Federation was still touchy after the whole situation with the Romulans, and Jim figured they didn't fancy their ships getting blown up on sight - he wouldn't either.

This time, though, they were going all out. 'Fleet HQ had just called in the order for the Enterprise to make it to the Deneva System as soon as possible, as they'd suddenly and inexplicably stopped receiving transmissions from Deneva Prime. Deneva Prime was a newly founded colony and a key strategic position if someone, namely the Klingons, were looking to take out Starbase 10. It was also where Sam and his family had settled as little as two months ago, and much as he hated to admit it, Jim was freaking out. He couldn't lose Sam too, not now, not after all they'd survived-

Jim shook his head decisively. He couldn't waste his energy worrying about something he couldn't know. He needed to focus, command the Enterprise admirably, get to Deneva Prime as fast as Scotty could push the engines, and figure out what the hell was going on.

He couldn't shake the slightest tendrils of panic chilling his bones, though, and his worry grew with each passing minute. Sam - his big brother - he was the only one Jim had left, damn it! The universe couldn't take Sam away too. It owed him this one.

He tried to focus on the Bridge, but he could tell Spock had noticed something was wrong. So exactly at shift end, before the Vulcan could approach him, he dashed to the turbolift and made it down to his quarters unaccosted. He knew it was a selfish thing to do, and utterly unbefitting of a captain - he should have been down in Engineering (Scotty had managed to push the engines to Warp Eight and they therefore needed constant maintanence, and Jim could do repair work just as well as any ensign on this ship), but he did it anyway.

So he called up Spock. The older Spock, of course - as if he would ever tell his Spock about his illogical fears. The old man would understand, and reassure him that yes, in his timeline Sam had lived to a hundred and five, why?

"Jim. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Ambassador Spock greeted him. As soon as he caught sight of Jim's face, however, his eyes widened just the tiniest bit in what looked like worry. "What's wrong? Has my counterpart-"

"No, it's got nothing to do with him," Jim interrupted hurriedly. "I assume you know of our mission to Deneva?"

"Of course," the Ambassador said smoothly. The old man may be relatively cut off from the rest of the galaxy on the Vulcan colony, but at least Jim could always count on him to know what was going on, classified information or no.

"Sam's on Deneva," Jim explained when he still didn't seem to get it.

A look of what was first understanding and then something else Jim didn't recognize flitted across the old Vulcan's face.

"Sam's on Deneva," Jim repeated slowly, trying not to let his worry show, "and I need you to tell me he's okay."

"Jim," Spock said with a sympathetic look, "I'm afraid that the differences in our timelines make it impossible for me to predict your brother's future. He died somewhat young where I come from, but that may very well not be the case here."

Died young. The words rang in Jim's ears, echoing through his mind. Died young. Died young. He nodded in understanding, taking a deep breath to try to calm himself. Died young. His panic must have showed on his face because Spock's look of sympathy deepened.

"I truly am sorry, Jim. I wish I could provide you with the reassurance you seek. If there is anything else I can do-"

"No, it's fine. I knew it was a long shot anyway. Goodbye," Jim knew he was being rude, and Spock's worried glance as the screen shut off cut right into him, but he couldn't do this. He couldn't keep an impassive face and pretend everything was okay when his brother could be-

He cut that thought off before it could break him.

* * *

Dean closed the Impala door and headed into the bunker, Sam at his side. They'd just gotten back from a vampire hunt, and he was damn exhausted, fuck tidying up the bunker and the hundred other little chores having a somewhat-permanent home meant they had to get done at some point. Dean was looking forward to his memory foam mattress too much to worry about it. As soon as he got to his room, he threw his duffel bag on the floor, kicked off his boots, and fell face first onto the bed. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the mattress.

It felt like only a few seconds later that he opened his eyes again. But instead of his pillow, his face was pressed against a shiny white floor.

"Sammy?"

"Dean?" he heard Sam call out from his left. Dean instantly felt better. Wherever the hell they were, Sam was at his side and that made it okay. He rolled over to get a look at his surroundings and blinked when he found a very strange-looking gun two inches from his face.

"You have five seconds to explain who you are and how you got on this ship," said the man holding the gun.

"Dean, Sam," Cas said, appearing a few yards down the corridor, and Dean started just the tiniest bit. Cas stopped short when the same man pointed another gun-thing at him as well and put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Dean knew guns couldn't hurt Cas, but Cas probably didn't want to alarm the man. "I mean you no harm," Castiel said.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed. "You're here too? Where is here?"

"It appears that we've been transported to an alternate universe," Cas answered.

"Alternate universe? Please don't tell me we have another Spock situation on our hands," said the man holding the guns, and he looked almost exasperated. "Goddamn multiverse always making my life more fucking difficult," he muttered, and Dean decided he liked him, potentially-ass-singeing weapons or no.

Wait. Spock?

Dean moved his eyes up from the gun to the man's face. "Captain Kirk?" he asked in disbelief.

"So you've heard of me." The captain kept his face hard, and his expression was so different from his usual easy grins and misplaced flirtatious smirks that Dean automatically straightened a bit.

...yeah, he might have built up a bit of respect for the guy over the years. So what?

"Hell yeah, I've heard of you," Dean answered. "You gotta be living under a rock if you've never heard of Captain James Tiberius Kirk."

"I have never resided under any stones," Cas said. Dean ignored him.

"Dean, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Sam asked. "Because we've seen some crazy stuff, but this..."

"I don't know, man. Maybe it was Gabriel or something. Remember when he put us in TV land? All I know is that Captain James T. Kirk is pointing a phaser at my face."

"This is not an illusion. We are actually currently in another dimension, and while there are several spells that can accomplish that, I would have felt the surge of power had one of those been used. No, there is only one being powerful enough to do something like this and He's not Gabriel," Cas said.

"Somebody better start explaining something or I swear to God I will chuck you off this ship and let you suffocate in space," Kirk said, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I don't have time for this shit right now."

"Well, you see-" Dean tried, because he was a professional, pathological liar, but this situation was so absolutely unexpected (and, yes, exciting) that he couldn't think of a suitable story.

"Captain Picard had LaForge send us over to-" Sam began, but Dean shook his head wildly, his eyes wide.

"What? " Sam hissed, glaring at his brother.

"That's TNG, Sammy. Are you an idiot? Picard hasn't even been born yet, let alone made it to captain!"

"What are you talking about?" Kirk demanded. He looked from Dean to Sam and back again. "Nothing you've said since you appeared on this ship has made any sense, so I suggest you start telling the truth."

"Alright, you want the truth?" Dean said. "We don't know how we got here. One minute I'm in bed, sound asleep, and the next thing I know I'm lying face down on your floor."

"Well, what was he talking about before?" Kirk asked, nodding his head at Cas. "When he said there's only one being powerful enough to do this?"

"I was talking about God," Cas said.

The captain scoffed. "Are you kidding me? You show up on my ship out of nowhere in the middle of space while we're doing Warp Eight, which should be totally impossible, proceed to try to lie to me about what you're doing here, and now you want me to write it all off on some ancient Earth myth?" Kirk may be a practiced liar, but Dean knows a bluff when he sees one. Even if he doesn't believe it, he's listening to what they're saying, filing it away to evaluate later.

"Listen, dude," Dean started, and Kirk gave him a funny look. "We don't know any more about this situation than you do, so how about we all calm the fuck down and try to work this out together, yeah?"

Kirk said nothing for a minute, thinking. Dean had no doubt he was going over every tactical possibility before he made a decision on how to react. That's what Dean would have done. "Alright," Kirk finally agreed, lowering the phaser. Dean was pretty sure he only did so because no human would be able to get to him before he could put a phaser shot right through their skull, regardless of where he was pointing the things. "But don't think I'll hesitate to lock you in the brig if you try to get the jump on me."

"Fair enough," Dean agreed.

"And I'm not 'dude'. At least not to you. Call me Captain."

"Yes, sir, Captain Kirk. You're the boss."

"Mr. Spock," Kirk said into a wall comm. He didn't take his eyes off the three of them. "Send a security team down to Deck E? We have a few intruders."

"Yes, Captain."

"Is security really necessary?" Dean asked, sending Kirk his best charming smile.

The captain shook his head slightly, looking amused in spite of himself. "I have no reason to trust you. Your motivations and abilities are unknown - for all I know, you're Klingon spies. So, yes. They are."

When Kirk turned his full attention to Dean, he winced in sympathy. He knew exactly what was coming - and when Cas knocked the guy out with two fingers to the forehead, he couldn't help but grimace.

But there was work to do. "Sam, Cas, let's make our way down to Engineering. There'll be plenty of places to hide down there, and they'll probably expect us to head to the Bridge, so that's where they'll start their search. We can grab some uniforms out of a personal replicator in any ranking officer's quarters on the way there."

"Never thought I'd be glad you're such a geek," Sam commented wryly.

"There's a first time for everything, Bitch. And let's get the captain somewhere he won't be found immediately. There are crews' quarters all along here."

"Whatever you say, Jerk."

* * *

"Commander Spock?" A voice sounded over the comm. "We're down on Deck E, but we don't see the captain - or any intruders, for that matter."

Spock, illogically, felt his heart rate speed up infinitesimally. He forced it back down. "Are you certain they are not there?"

The question was superfluous, he knew, and Nyota frowned at his unusual inefficiency, but Spock had been caught off-guard by the surge of adrenaline that rushed through his veins at the thought that the captain might be hurt.

"Uh, yeah. We're pretty sure." Surprise laced the security crewman's voice - it seemed not only Nyota had noticed his strange action. Spock chose to ignore that fact.

"Then start a ship-wide alert immediately. The captain and the intruders must be found," he commanded. The rest of the bridge crew looked mildly alarmed (they did face emergencies similar in urgency, if not nature, somewhat often, after all), but Spock kept his face void of emotion. He must maintain control. Whether or not something had happened to the captain - to Jim - was of no consequence. He could not let his worry show any more than it already had.

He desperately wanted to join the search, but as First Officer he had duties on the bridge, especially since the captain was missing. He tried not to let the relief show on his face when a crewman finally commed him to let him know they'd found the captain.

"He's passed out in one of the crewmen's quarters," the crewman said. "We're trying to wake him up now. We already commed Doctor McCoy."

"Thank you. Ask the doctor to contact me when the captain awakens," Spock instructed. "Continue the search for the intruders."

"Aye, Sir."

Spock turned toward the science station and closed his eyes tightly. The captain is fine. I must maintain control. I must not let my relief show. I must not become emotionally compromised.

His back stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and felt the gentle murmur of Nyota's thoughts against his.

"Are you okay, Spock?" she asked, and he could feel a faint flicker of her worry from where she was touching him.

"I am functional, Lieutenant. Please return to your post immediately and continue managing the search teams."

Though his voice was still carefully blank, the spike of hurt he felt from Nyota in the moment before she pulled away shook him. Why did he continue to reject her offers of comfort? He was only hurting her by doing so. What did he hope to gain from pushing her away?

He did not know.

A disgruntled voice issuing from the wall communicator rescued him from further reflection. "I hope you've found the bastards, because I'm of a mind to go stab 'em with a hypo full of neurotoxins."

Spock took care not to react too eagerly. "What is the captain's condition, Doctor McCoy? Is he-"

"I'm fine, Spock," Jim's voice interrupted. "Just a little surprised. The intense-looking one knocked me out with two fingers - it was like a nerve pinch, except less tingly. Which is weird, since there's no way that guy was Vulcan, or anything like it. He was - something I've never come across before, that's for sure."

"Do you know anything of the intruders' location, Sir?" Spock asked, and he was relieved when he was able to keep his voice steady.

"I didn't overhear them plotting their evil schemes, if that's what you're asking, but I'd check Engineering. That's where I'd go if I was looking to hide somewhere on this ship, and the pretty one seemed like he knew more than enough about the ship."

"I will contact Mr. Scott and send a security team down immediately." If Spock's voice was a little colder than it had been before the captain had referred to "the pretty one", no one noticed.

"Thanks, Spock."

* * *

Sam followed Dean as he quickly navigated the ship and led them down to Engineering, stopping along the way to change into red uniforms. When they finally got down to Engineering, they discovered that it was bustling with activity.

"They must be in the middle of one important mission if they've got this much going on in Engineering," Dean commented. "That's better for us, though. With this many people running around down here focused on their work, they won't notice a few extra crewmen wandering around."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked. "Just act casual?" Star Trek was Dean's area of expertise, not his.

"Just stay in the shadows, act busy, and try not to draw too much attention to yourself."

"How do you 'act busy'?" Cas asked.

Before Dean could answer, a somewhat stout man with red hair and a menacing scowl approached them at a near-run. "What're ye doin' jus' standin' around, ye overgrown bunch of lazy bumps? We've got a leak in the cooling system down by the warp core, and if ye don' get movin' right now I'll have the cap'n transfer ye before ye can say 'a pint of Scotch', ye hear me?"

"Aye, Sir!" Dean said sharply, snapping a hasty salute.

The man began to hurry on his way, but before they were in the clear, he turned sharply. "Now, what're yer stations?" he asked, shooting them a piercing glance.

"Uh..."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What're yer names, then, if yer stations are too difficult for ye?"

"Ensigns Skywalker, Solo, and Vader, Sir," Dean replied smoothly, trying to make up lost ground.

"Mr. Scott is transmitting to the bridge using his personal communication device," Cas said suddenly. "He is holding it behind his back."

Before anybody could react, a security team entered Engineering at a run. "Mr. Scott! Are these the intruders?"

"Seeing as they can' even tell me their stations, I'd say they are."

The security team tried to grab them, but Dean fought back, and Sam followed his lead. Apparently they were done trying to pretend they were members of the crew. They put up a good fight, and Cas took out at least five, but they were no match for the security team's phasers, set to stun. The last thing Sam saw was a phaser pointed at his chest before everything went black.

* * *

They awoke in the brig.

"Damn it!" Sam opened his eyes to see Dean pulling at the chains binding his hands behind the back of his chair. "Why can't we ever catch a single goddamn break? We get stuck in fucking Star Trek and end up chained up in the brig! I mean, what the hell, man? This is Star Trek! We should be living not-so-subtle lessons on the moral limits of humanity, not getting tied to chairs and left to rot!"

"I seriously doubt that they would leave us in here long enough to rot, Dean," Cas said. He was sitting in the corner of the room, his shackles hanging loose from where he had obviously been chained a few minutes ago.

"Figure of speech, Cas," Sam said. Cas ignored him.

"Are you okay, Dean?" the angel asked.

Dean's restraints fell suddenly open, and he smiled, rubbing his wrists. "Yeah, I'm fine. And thanks, man. I can get out of rope ties fine, but those would have taken me a few hours to pick."

"Especially since they don't have physical locks and can only be accessed through a voice-coded computer program." Sam looked up quickly to see Captain Kirk standing on the other side of what could only be called a giant glass wall that definitely hadn't been there two seconds ago. Another man, with a blue uniform and pointy ears, stood beside him. Must be Spock.

When Sam turned his gaze back to the mysterious window, Kirk noticed his unspoken inquiry and asked, "You like it? I got it put in just in case. One-way window most of the time, but it converts to clear for easier communication with prisoners. Pretty awesome, huh?" When they didn't answer, his voice hardened. "How did you get out of the shackles? You didn't hack them, didn't even attempt to mimic anyone's voice patterns. They just... opened for you. How?"

Sam was too late to stop Cas from spouting his typical reply. "I am an Angel of the Lord."

Kirk shook his head disbelievingly. "So we're still going with that story. Well, you guys are persistent, I'll give you that."

"I say it because it is true."

Kirk jumped about a foot in the air when Cas' voice sounded from directly behind him, and he whirled to see the "angel" standing not a foot away. He was just in time to see Spock's hand closing over the being's shoulder in a nerve pinch before his First Officer flew across the room.

Cas didn't even touch Spock. Sam was just surprised the captain wasn't flipping out, to be honest.

"Spock!" Kirk exclaimed, running over to his First Officer. He was out cold, but he was breathing.

"Cas, get us out of here!" Dean said. A second later, Cas was back in the cell and in another blink of an eye they were all on the other side of the glass, standing next to the captain.

"What the hell?" Kirk cried in alarm as he pulled out his comm. "Kirk to bridge. Send down as many security crewmen as you can. The prisoners escaped. Commander Spock is down."

"We should get out of here," Sam said.

"And go where, Sam?" Dean asked. "This entire ship is filled with crewmen armed with phasers. And I'm pretty sure they're not gonna keep them set to stun for much longer."

"We can't just stand here and wait to get captured again, Dean!"

Instead of answering him, Dean turned to Kirk.

"Listen, man - Captain - we don't know how we got on this ship and we're not here to hurt you, but if we work together maybe we can figure out what the hell is going on."

"Not here to hurt us? Then why the hell is my First Officer unconscious on the floor?" Kirk demanded, pointing accusingly toward Spock's prone form.

"He did attack Cas first," Sam pointed out, his tone deliberately reasonable and placating.

"You were in that room for a reason! We can't trust you - we still don't even know who you really are! Of course he went for him! It was the only logical course of action!"

This obviously wasn't working.

"You want to know who we really are?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Of course I fucking do!" Jim almost shouted.

"My name's Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean, and this is Castiel. He's an Angel of the Lord - and don't give me that wild-eyed incredulity. We didn't believe it at first either, until we realized that Dean'd been dead in the ground for a year before this guy managed to pull him back up from Hell, and whatever could do that had to be something more powerful than we'd ever come across before, so why the hell not an angel?"

Jim took a few deep breaths, trying to pull himself back together. At least he didn't pull out a phaser. "So you're saying that this... guy... brought your brother back from the dead."

"Yep," Sam confirmed.

"From Hell."

"Yep."

"And you expect me to believe you."

"...yep."

Jim shook his head slowly. "This... this is insane. Time-traveling Romulans I can deal with, different versions of my First Officer popping up on ice-covered planets... sure. But God? Hell?"

"Why the fuck not?" Dean interrupted. "They could technically all just be really powerful self-deluding aliens." He shrugged. "Think of it that way, if you have to."

"We are not," Castiel said almost petulantly, but his voice rang with power. "We are forever and from the beginning. We are emptiness and lightning and the dust of the worlds, and we are ancient. We watched the birth of the Universe, and we wondered at our Father's Glory. We are more, not some alien life form to rationalize and humble."

"Not helping, dude," Dean hissed.

At that moment, the security team arrived and immediately pointed their phasers at Dean, Sam, and Cas.

"Hold your fire," Kirk ordered. "I finally got them talking." He pulled out his comm. "Bones, this is Kirk. Get down to the brig. Spock is in need of medical attention."

"Bridge already called me. I'll be right there, Captain," Dr. McCoy replied.

Kirk put his comm away and turned back to the three intruders. "So you're trying to tell me that he's an angel."

"Yeah."

"Is there any way you could prove it or something? I mean, this story is just a little too crazy to take on faith."

Sam knew a test when he saw one. If they refused to demonstrate... well. It wouldn't end well for them.

"Don't say it," Dean said, pointing at Cas as he opened his mouth to speak.

"What kind of proof do you want?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Just... proof. How else do you expect me to believe you?"

"Hey, dude, maybe you could flash him your wings like you did the first time we met," Dean suggested to Cas.

"I'm assuming you're talking about the first time you saw me in this vessel," Cas answered. "Because the first time we actually met was in Hell."

"Whatever, man, you know what I'm talking about."

"My wings - or, rather, their shadows - are not baubles to display lightly," Cas warned.

"Well, this is kind of a life or death situation," Sam pointed out.

Castiel looked at him in a sort of acknowledgement, and his eyes began to glow.

A great flash illuminated the ship, and for a second, Sam could see Cas' wings.

They were glorious, nothing like those shadows that showed up on the ground after an angel was killed. These were alive, and even though Sam couldn't see their true form, he was awestruck.

Then the impossible light faded, and he blinked to let his eyes adjust, just in time to see Dean turn to Kirk, a small smile on his face. "Do you believe us now?"


	2. Chapter 2

"We need to talk in private. But first, I have a First Officer to attend to," Kirk said. Then he pulled out his comm again. "Bones, you almost here?"

"I'm right down the hall. Jesus, Jim, hold your horses. I'll be there in a second."

Just as he promised, Bones walked through the door moments later.

Dean's mouth opened before he could stop it. "It's him,” he whispered to Sam. “It's Dr. Sexy.” Dean's eyes opened wide as he caught his own mistake. “Um. McCoy.” He hadn't meant any of it to be more than a hiss, but unfortunately McCoy heard him.

"Sexy, huh? Well I can't say I'm not flattered, but keep your peepers to yourself. I'm a doctor, not a model." Sam snickered as the doctor knelt down to examine Spock. "What happened to him?"

"Mr. Celestial Being over there threw him into the wall," Kirk answered.

Bones (McCoy, Dean corrected himself, his name was McCoy) ran his tricorder over the Vulcan. "Well, it looks like he's got a concussion, but he'll be fine when he wakes up. He'll probably have a massive headache, though."

"Alright, well, I'll leave him in your capable hands, Doctor," Jim (Kirk, Dean corrected, call him Kirk) said with a wink, giving a little suggestive wriggle when he used McCoy's title. The doctor rolled his eyes, and Dean grinned at the interchange. "You three, come with me," Kirk said, nodding at Sam, Dean, and Cas. "And you three as well," he added as an afterthought, indicating three security men.

"I thought we were past all that," Dean said, mimicking the captain's tone.

"Just because you flash a pair of wings at me and say you're an angel doesn't mean you're the good guys. But don't worry. They're just gonna stand outside the door in case I need them. And for all our sakes I hope I won't."

Kirk led them to his quarters and closed the door, leaving the security team outside. Then he sat down at his desk and gestured for them to come stand behind him. A moment later, an old man with pointy ears appeared on the screen.

"No way," Dean said. He knew this wasn't any crazier than anything else that had been going on, but...

Holy shit.

Holy _shit_.

The old man raised one eyebrow. “Jim, may I enquire-”

“It’s Leonard Nimoy,” Dean whispered to Sam, but he was again overheard. Stupid acute ears.

“I am who?” the old man asked.

“Leonard Nimoy,” Dean said, realizing there wasn’t much point in pretending he hadn’t said anything. “The original Spock, one of the most iconic actors in the history of sci-fi? Because, I mean, William Shatner wasn’t bad, necessarily, and Nichelle Nichols and Walter Koenig made history, but Leonard Nimoy was the real star of the show, everyone knows it. Well... and DeForest Kelley, but he wasn’t the one playing an alien here, so...”

"You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"No, you're definitely him. Well I guess since this is an alternate universe, you're not really him... you know what? I'll stop talking now." Dean winced. He wasn't one to stumble over his words, but damn, was this a strange situation.

"Are you suggesting that you are from an alternate universe?" the old man asked. "This is not exactly what I had expected, but I suppose He knows what is best."

"What are you talking about?" Kirk asked, narrowing his eyes at Spock.

The Vulcan gave him a tiny affectionate smile. "I was meditating on finding a solution to your Klingon problem when I accidentally made contact with an unexpected being," he began.

"You spoke to God?" Castiel asked.

“That may be one name for the Being,” Spock said, looking totally unsurprised by Cas' interruption – and assumption. “I do not know. I know only that He was benevolent and powerful, and that He offered to help, and that I accepted.”

“You made contact with and accepted help from an unknown, all-powerful being that you had absolutely no familiarity or previous experience with?” Jim asked disbelievingly. “Not very logical of you, Mr. Spock.”

“I disagree. It was an eminently logical decision. One cannot lie on the mental plane – it is impossible. I therefore knew that this Being was trustworthy, and that I could only do well to accept His offer of assistance.”

“What did He feel like?” Castiel asked. Could this Being be his Father? Could He actually be here?

"He felt like power and warmth and kindness and His presence was all-encompassing. Those are the best words I have to describe Him."

"Well this guy here claims to be an Angel of the Lord," Kirk said, gesturing to Cas and giving a little helpless shrug. "He showed me his wings, or at least a shadow of them, anyway."

"This is a most intriguing situation we find ourselves in," Spock commented. "And a potent reminder that even through all our advances in science, there is always more to discover."

"You can get all philosophical later, Spock," Kirk said. "Right now we have more urgent questions. Like – you’re saying that you asked the Big Guy Upstairs for help with the Klingons and He sent one of His angels and his two sidekicks from an alternate universe? That sounds pretty–"

"I am nobody's sidekick," Dean interrupted, but Kirk shot him a look that made him shut up immediately.

"Yes, that appears to be the case, Jim," Spock answered.

“Great,” he groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. “How am I going to explain this to you?”

Sam frowned.

"The other him," Kirk explained quickly. "My – the younger Spock."

Dean snorted at the slip-up.

“Quite carefully, I would imagine.” Jim could hear the amusement in Spock's voice.

Jim shot him a look, and received a fond smile in return.

“All right, all right, not to crash your little chick flick party here, but there actually are bigger issues going on right now. Like... when are we going to eat?" Dean asked. "I’m starving.”

“Not again,” Sam said. “You’re always hungry.”

“I’m a warrior. I need food to build my muscles.”

“Pancakes and hamburgers don’t build muscle, Dean. They build cholesterol. And arterial blockage.”

“Lettuce and carrots isn’t real food either, Sammy, so what’s your point?”

"We can get food later!" Kirk interrupted, frowning. "Right now we need to figure out how you're supposed to help us defeat the Klingons, because the Big Guy obviously thinks you're the answer to our problem."

"Would you please stop referring to my Father as 'the Big Guy'?" Cas asked.

Kirk ignored him. "Did He leave you any clues when you contacted Him, Spock?"

"Not that I am aware of," Spock replied. "He simply let me know that He'd be sending people to help."

"And you didn't tell me this before they landed on the Enterprise and caused a ship-wide panic?"

"You were busy with your captainly duties. I could not get a hold of you." His voice was as dry as Jim had ever heard it.

“Oh, sure,” Jim scoffed. He seemed to be doing a lot of scoffing today. “Because you don’t have the resources to get through to me anywhere, anytime.”

“Those are resources that I prefer not to utilize until they are absolutely necessary,” Spock said. “And if you recall, it was you who ended our conversation prematurely, indicating a wish to be, as you say, ‘left alone’.”

“Well, yeah, but–"

“Just listen to your boyfriend, Cap,” Dean sighed.

“To my what?! And what did you just call me?”

"Sorry, Cap _tain_. And fine – wrong Spock."

" _Neither_ Spock is my boyfriend."

"Oh, so there isn't a 'my Spock' running around the ship somewhere, Captain?" Dean smirked infuriatingly.

Jim just clenched his jaw and shook his head, but then he saw an opportunity he couldn't resist."What about you and Mr. Guardian Angel over here?" he asked, doing his damndest to turn the tables.

"What? There's nothing going on between me and Cas." The guy looked genuinely surprised. How cute.

"Come on, you've only been on this ship for a few hours and I've already seen you eye fuck at least five times."

Dean's eyes widened, and his hands made a funny twitch like he was resisting the urge to clamp his hands over the angel's ears. Kirk snickered.

"Can we please get back to the real issues here?" Sam asked impatiently.

Jim was okay quitting while he was ahead. "Right. Okay. So what exactly can you guys do?" he asked. "I need to know your skill set if I'm going to incorporate you into a plan to defeat the Klingons – although, seriously? How am I supposed to–" Spock caught his eye with a warning glance, and he turned his complaint into a cough. "I mean, I already know this guy can teleport and knock people out, but what else can you do?"

"Well, Cas here can smite and heal people with a touch of his hand. Sam and I are good with guns and knives—all kinds of weapons, really, although neither of us has ever used a phaser—and we've ganked quite a few sons of bitches who were tougher than the Klingons," Dean said.

"How much do you know about the Klingons? If you're from an alternate universe, there could be differences between the Klingons you're familiar with and the ones we have here."

Jim was just being practical, but Dean raised his eyebrows, and damn him if that motion wasn't just as hot on the guy as it was on Bones – and Spock, for that matter. Maybe he just had an unrealized eyebrow kink.

"Where we come from, this is all a TV show and a few movies," Dean said.

"TV?" Jim asked. What the hell– "Movies?"

"2D holos," Dean explained. "Fictional ones, in your case. The one you're from, or I guess where the other Spock is from, Star Trek, was real popular in the 1970s and '80s. Then it made a revival just recently with the reboot series, which is where we are right now. Into Darkness is coming out soon, too. Charlie couldn't shut up about it for a few days there, remember, Sammy?"

"How could I not?" his brother smiled fondly, evidently recalling some amusing experience. "Benedict Cumberbatch as Khan," Sam continued abruptly, meeting Jim's eyes. "It's gonna be good."

"Khan?!" the old Vulcan's voice cut through the room. "Does he exist in this universe as well?"

Sam winced. So much for not messing up timelines or destroying universes. "Uh... yeah. He's white this time though, which a lot of people are offended about—can't blame 'em, really. Representation is really—I mean, especially when you've got a canon character of color, you can't just–" Dean shook his head (not relevant right now), so Sam moved on. "...and from what the trailers show it's definitely not gonna go down the same way it did with you."

Relief flooded Spock's features. It was strange to see him so expressive.

"So we—mostly I—know about as much about this future as Spock Prime here does," Dean explained. "Maybe a bit more."

"Be cautious of what you reveal," Spock warned. "We do not know how it will affect the future."

"Well, I figure there's some kind of set path," Dean said, "Or we wouldn't remember any of the STID trailers, would we?"

"I do not know, and it is not wise to gamble with timelines."

"Okay, okay–" Jim shook his head. "Not relevant right now. We need to know more about the situation on Deveva Prime more than anything. And to do that, we need to keep the engines from exploding. Do any of you know anything about Warp Core Mechanics?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm a law student, not an engineer, and I always preferred fantasy to sci-fi anyway. I've got no clue."

"I know a bit," Dean said, frowning slightly. "No practical experience, obviously, but I've done enough work on Baby I think I've got the basics down good enough."

"Baby?"

"His car," Sam snickered.

"A starship is a bit different than a car." Jim said skeptically.

"Ah, come on, just let me help. I've seen enough episodes of Star Trek to know all the fancy engineering terms you guys use."

"It can’t hurt to let you try,” Jim said doubtfully. “But first I'm gonna go down to sickbay and visit Spock. You guys can go get some food. I'll have the security team outside the door take you–"

"Security team still? Really?" Dean interrupted.

"I'm just gonna have them show you the way and then they're gonna leave. Chill out. Dean, meet me down in Engineering in an hour. Talk to you later, Spock. Kirk out."

* * *

 

"How is he, Bones?" Jim asked as he walked into sickbay.

"He's awake now, so I was just about to do my final examination before I cleared him to leave. You can go see him if you want," the doctor answered.

"Thanks, Bones," Kirk said, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past him to Spock's bed.

"Jim," Spock said in greeting.

"Hey, Spock. How are you feeling?"

"Dr. McCoy has given me medication for the pain, so I should be able to return to duty."

"That's good." Jim shifted awkwardly in place.

Spock sat up with sudden urgency, and Jim resisted the urge to push him back down on the bed. "Are the intruders back in their cell? Have they been secured?"

"Uh, not exactly."

Spock's eyes narrowed so slightly that if Jim didn't know him so well he might not have noticed. "I do not understand."

"Well, they're not in the cell."

"Then am I correct in assuming you have secured them in another location, Captain?" His voice was growing sharper by the second.

"I... didn't secure them anywhere." This was ridiculous. Jim shouldn't feel like a child telling his mom he'd broken her favorite vase. He was captain of this ship, God damn it! He wouldn't allow his First Officer to order him around – especially if his First Officer never had to say a word before he was running around to carry out the Vulcan's unspoken will.

"With all due respect Captain, I do not find it logical for you to waste time visiting me in sickbay when there are intruders wreaking havoc on the ship."

"They're not wreaking havoc, and I think the word 'visitors' is more accurate than 'intruders'."

"Jim," Spock said, enunciating clearly and forcefully, "If I find that this is not a hallucination induced by my recent head injury, I may have to declare you unfit for duty and take command, because you are quite clearly not making remotely logical decisions."

"You're not imagining things, Spock," Jim said. Then he decided to just explain the whole thing in one go and hope Spock understood. "Listen to me. While you were knocked out, the prisoners escaped and told me that the one with the blue eyes—you know, the one who threw you into the wall—is an Angel of the Lord. Of course, I didn't believe them... until he flashed me his wings. So then I took them down to my cabin where we had a chat with Old Spock and we found out that while he was meditating he accidentally made contact with God and He offered to help us with our Klingon problem. Apparently the help He sent us is in the form of an Angel and his two friends from an alternate universe where our lives are fictional and people watch them on 2D holos."

Spock looked unconvinced. "If you are telling the truth, then my alternate self is either lying or delusional. God does not exist."

"If it makes you feel any better, he didn't call Him God. He just said He was a being that he'd never encountered before. Our three visitors pretty adamantly believe that He's God, though."

“That is... unfortunate,” Spock said slowly, as if he were having difficulty finding the right words to describe the situation. “No one with as much power as they appear to possess should be allowed to sustain delusions of this magnitude. It is illogical; they will doubtless base any decisions they make upon their false premise, and in some way bring disaster to the ship. I still believe that the wisest course would be to find some way to contain them, and failing that, to find some way to destroy them.”

“Spock!” Jim’s voice was not surprised, or even chastising. It was downright horrified. “You can’t just kill people because they have magic and believe in God! Why – what would the Vulcan moral code say about this?!”

“The good of the many always supersedes the welfare of the few, and the presence of these beings may very well lead to the destruction of this ship, and the death of all on board,” Spock said impassively.

Jim was seriously, honestly disappointed in him. No one with any real, Human compassion would be able to say something like that, not that seriously. “I think that’s a bit of a jump, don’t you?" he enquired, a little desperately. "I mean, sure, the guy threw you into a wall, and you’ve got to be mad about that, but–"

“Vulcans do not ‘get mad’, Captain,” Spock interrupted.

Jim ignored him. “–that’s hardly a logical reason to assume that he’d destroy the ship, or even that he’s got that kind of power! No offense, but moving one Vulcan is hardly the same as blowing up a Constitution-class starship.”

“You did not feel his mind,” Spock said, and his voice tremored slightly. “You may be aware, Sir, that Vulcans have katras, and Humans have souls. Other sentient species all have their own equivalent." Jim nodded, not seeing where this was going. "This being had none of these.”

Jim frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He was entirely different from any consciousness I have ever before felt. His equivalent... I apologize, Captain, I can not explain it in any Human language.”

“Try.”

“Katras – katras are the desert sand, hissing and sliding and trailing, always changing and always the same, bright red and colorless, hot and dry and stinging and grasping. Souls are different – more individual. Yours is made of sunlight and warmth and drops of cool rain dripping through the thick foliage of a Terran wood, and the whisper of wind in the golden fields. What he had–" Spock could barely contain a shudder. “It was lightning and ozone and a thunderclap splitting a planet in two, and the cry of a child that nobody hears shaking a forest till the trees splinter and crash to the ground in infinite tiny piercing shards. There was power like I have never felt thrumming beneath his skin, barely contained and on the brink of spilling out, because whatever form he is meant to take, it is impossibly larger than the one he currently inhabits.”

"Oh." That was all Jim could think to say. His head started to hurt as he tried to imagine that kind of power.

"As you can see, Captain, he is perfectly capable of destroying the ship and us along with it. Therefore, the wisest course of action would be to restrain him or destroy him."

"But Spock—the other Spock—thinks they can be trusted. He said that the being he encountered was benevolent and trustworthy. And according to him you can't lie on the mental plane, so it must be true. And if a being that powerful and wise thinks these guys are the answer to our problems, then who am I to disagree? Just trust me, Spock. They're on our side."

"Captain, are you saying that because these intruders are trusted by a powerful, unknown being and that being is in turn trusted by my alternate self, whom you trust, I should trust them, because I have placed my trust in you?"

“...yes?”

Spock shook his head. “I cannot do that. However, I do assure you that I will not make any hostile move toward them unless they act in a manner that endangers the ship or any one of its crew, especially you. I... it would be unfortunate if the Enterprise were to lose its captain so near the beginning of its voyage.” Spock did not say it, but the unspoken sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Jim smiled. “The Enterprise is a ‘she’, Spock. And... thanks.” Whether or not Spock denied it later, Jim knew what Spock had been about to say: I care for you. I am, and always shall be, your friend. Not in as many words, certainly, but Jim didn’t care. He would take Spock like he got him.

And that was okay.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean headed down to Engineering after he finished eating, just like he’d promised. He was actually a little bit early, but he didn't care. He was about to become a mechanic on a fucking starship, and fuck if he wasn't allowed to get excited about that.

When he got there, though, he hesitated. What if Captain Kirk hadn't told Scotty he wasn’t dangerous? Should he wait for the captain before he went in?

Luckily, Kirk came around the corner just as he started to freak, putting Dean’s worries to rest.

"Right on time, Dean," he said, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a reassuring smile as he lead him into Engineering. Dean was slightly mortified to realize that meant the guy had known he was about to freak out. He was a manly man, damn it. He didn't need reassuring smiles or goddamned tingly shoulder-claps.

He could still feel where the captain's hand had made contact with his arm.

The Engineering bay looked just as it had the last time Dean was in here, all metal and pipes and a bustling sea of red – although Dean noticed that there were some gold and blue shirts floating around in there, too. “Why’re there Command and Sciences in here, too? I thought it was mostly just Ops who worked in Engineering.”

Jim glanced at him, looking a little surprised. “We’re pushing Warp Eight right now, and things keep blowing. Scotty needs all the hands he can get.”

“Warp Eight?” Dean asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. Kirk shifted a little, looking mildly uncomfortable, but Dean let it go. “Dude, you’ve got to be kidding me. In TOS they did Warp Nine, no problem-o.”

“TOS?”

"The Original Series," Dean answered. "It's, uh, the alternate universe where Old Spock comes from. It's a TV show where I come from and we call it Star Trek: The Original Series because it was the first one – there’s a shit-ton of Star Trek canon out there... TNG, ENT, VOY, DS9...” Dean winced as he said it, as his mind called up an image of Bobby. “...but that's not important. Let's just get down and dirty here.”

“Whoa there,” Jim laughed. “I’m pretty sure you’re spoken for.”

Dean grinned, and the quick flash of pain that had crossed his face faded a little bit. At least their senses of humor were similar. “Nope, all free here. You offering?”

Surprise flitted across Jim's face, but then he shook his head, smiling softly. “Nah. Pretty sure my right hand’s the jealous type.”

Dean winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Just another part of being a captain,” Jim shrugged. “The power echelon’s great and all, but it isn’t exactly conducive to interpersonal relations.”

Before Dean could say anything, Jim caught sight of Scotty and called out to him. "Scotty! I brought you some more help."

"With all due respect, Captain, isn' this one of the dangerous intruders that was down here earlier?"

"It's a long story, but turns out the intruders are not hostile and Dean here–" Kirk put his hand on Dean's shoulder again, "–knows a little bit about mechanics."

He left his hand there, and Dean didn't shrug him off.

"Not hostile?" Scotty shot them a suspicious look. "What do you call what he was doin' down here earlier? A playful tustle?"

“Hey! We were just defending ourselves!”

Scotty frowned at him. “He hasnae had much experience on a starship, either, I’d reckon.” he said, turning back to Jim. “I can see it in his eyes; this man’s used t' the open air.”

Jim shrugged. “Stick him in the Jeffries Tubes, if you like. I don’t care, just put him to work.”

Dean knew he had volunteered, but when he saw the manic gleam in Scotty’s eye as the man was given free reign, he had to wonder if that had been a mistake.

* * *

Sam and Cas were directed to the guest quarters after they finished eating, and Sam was grudgingly impressed by how nice they were. They'd each been given their own room, and the beds were even comfier than the ones in the bunker. The walls were white (just like most of the other walls on the Enterprise) and the whole room was spotlessly clean.

Unsure of what to do with himself while Dean was in Engineering, Sam sat on the bed and looked around. He wished he had his laptop so he could download some episodes of Star Trek or something to do some research. Maybe get on that website Charlie had showed him – memorial-omega, was it? Remembrance-delta? Sam shook his head. It didn't matter now. His laptop was still in the bunker, along with all their other hunting equipment.

And what were they going to do if they were confronted with a hostile? They'd already proved their hand-to-hand skills weren't sufficient to keep them out of trouble in this kind of environment. And while Sam had no doubt that he and Dean would have no problems learning to use a phaser, he knew they'd both feel better with guns in their hands and knives in their boots (and jackets, and belts, and sleeves...). Honestly, they were in about the worst position they could be in with regards to equipment.

He'd ask next time he saw the captain.

"I'm unsure what we're supposed to be doing while Dean is assisting the captain," Cas suddenly said behind him, surprising him so bad he almost fell off the bed.

"I think we're just supposed to stay here and rest," Sam answered with a shrug. "And, you know, not get into any trouble."

"I'm an angel. I don't need rest," Cas said.

Before Sam could respond, a chime sounded at the door, so he got up to answer it.

"Commander Spock," Sam said in surprise when the door slid open. "Nice to officially meet you. I'm Sam Winchester."

He extended his hand for a handshake, but when Spock only glared at it, he remembered how Vulcans felt about physical contact and awkwardly put his hand back down.

"Uh... sorry for gatecrashing," he offered. "We're really appreciative of your hospitality–"

"What is he?" Spock interrupted.

"What?"

"What is the creature that stands behind you, small as a man and vast as a starship?"

"Hey, listen here," Sam said harshly. "Cas isn't a 'creature', and you–"

"I am an Angel of The Lord," said Castiel, and his voice rang with power – for the second time in as many hours. It gave Sam an earache, hearing him like that. "You have been informed of this, seen proof of my celestial origin through your bioscanners and your mind. Tell me, Spock, son of Sarek and Amanda, could any being abiding by the laws of physics be as I am?"

"The laws of physics have been altered before," Spock pointed out, his voice still eerily blank. "And they will be again. They are merely guidelines meant to encapsulate our current understanding of the multiverse. No law is truly fundamental."

"That doesn't change the nature of my being. I am ancient and forever, older than the universe itself. In the beginning God created Angels and we watched as He made worlds without end, filling up the empty void of space with new life."

The room grew silent for a moment, before Sam let out a deep breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. He'd always had a deep respect for how ancient and powerful Angels were, but hearing it described like that reminded him just how old Cas was – and how much he'd seen.

It didn't seem to phase Spock, though. "Whatever you profess to be, I must issue a warning," he said. "If you do anything to endanger this ship or its crew, I will personally ensure that you are terminated."

"I wish you luck, should you attempt to do so," Cas said, and fuck Sam three ways to Tuesday if the angel hadn't learned some sass.

"Luck is illogical," Spock said, and spun to leave.

"Wait, Spock," Sam called, but the Vulcan ignored him, and the door swished shut behind his slender frame.

* * *

When Dean finally returned to the guest quarters, Cas was surprised by how tired he looked. He wasn't the only one who noticed, though.

"Long day?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Scotty had me doing all the grunt work, but it was still pretty awesome. I was working on the Enterprise, man. It's unreal."

"Well I was just thinking about going down to the cafeteria to get some food. Wanna come with?"

"Is that even a question? I'm starving."

"I will join you as well," Cas said, not wanting to be excluded.

They were just about to leave when the door chimed again. When Dean opened it, Captain Kirk was standing on the other side.

"I just came to see if you all wanted to join me for dinner," he said, but his gaze was fixed intently on Dean.

Dean's answering smile was stunning and Cas didn't think he liked the way he was looking at the captain.

"Sure," Dean said. "We were about to head down there anyway."

"Alright then," Kirk said with a lopsided smile. "Let's go."

Sam started to say something to the captain, but before he could, Kirk and Dean had already taken off, walking side by side down the corridor and talking animatedly about the cruelty of the Enterprise's chief engineer. Cas shuffled awkwardly behind.

Sam sent him a sideways glance when a frown began to spread across Cas' face. "You okay?"

"I am fine," Cas replied.

"You sure?" Sam asked. "Because–"

"I am fine," the angel repeated.

"–ridiculous amounts of grease!" Kirk's voice was becoming obnoxiously loud. "We don't even run the kind of engine that needs grease! I don't know how he gets the Jeffries Tubes so dirty–"

"I know!" Dean replied, looking just slightly down at the captain, not breaking eye contact as they turned into the mess hall. "Guy's gotta be running some fucking inefficient machinery down there. I'd never let Baby's insides get that dirty. Well, there was that one time, but I'd been dead a year so I wasn't getting regular maintenance in–"

"Dead?!" Kirk exclaimed in surprise, but then his confusion cleared. "Oh, yeah, you mentioned that earlier."

"Yeah, well," Dean said. "Hell ain't exactly a five-star hotel."

"Wait, Hell? You were serious about that?" This time he sounded tentatively awed.

"Yeah," Dean replied, and his voice was insultingly matter-of-fact. "Cas here pulled me out."

'Cas here' gritted his teeth and stayed silent, with considerable effort.

"He and Dean share a 'more profound bond'," Sam cut in when Cas could not bear to look up from his feet.

"Oh, is that so?" Kirk asked with just the slightest bit of amusement. "So, like, is it a telepathy thing, or–"

"I pieced his shattered soul together and remade him anew," Cas said when he could no longer help himself. He glared straight up into Kirk's eyes. "I built him and left my mark upon his being, and he is mine." He spread his wings behind him. Although the human could not see it, Castiel knew he would be able to feel their intimidating presence.

Kirk did not show it, though. He merely raised an eyebrow at Dean, who gave a little half shrug in response.

As they all sat down with their food, Dean and Kirk maneuvered so they could sit side by side and continue their animated conversation, which resumed quickly after the awkward lull Cas had caused. Sam and Cas sat opposite them, perched in awkward silence on the edges of their seats. It wasn't long before Spock approached their table, pausing only when he saw how engaged the captain was with their visitor.

"Captain," he said in greeting, biting the word off a little harshly. "Protocol dictates that you must record any unusual events on the ship within six hours of their occurrence. I would like to ascertain that you have completed–"

"I already did my supplemental log, Spock," Kirk interrupted, waving a distracted hand in his First Officer's general direction. "Yeah, but why does the number of cylinders affect the engine's power?" he said to Dean. "The acceleration shouldn't be–"

"Have you completed the forms required of the captain when new passengers are taken aboard, Sir?" Spock asked.

Kirk finally sighed and turned away from Dean, looking up at Spock. "What do you want, Spock? I know you didn't come over here to bug me about paperwork."

"I was going to invite you to play a game of chess with me," Spock said, and his voice was quiet, but hard as steel. "But it appears that you are otherwise occupied tonight."

"Oh, yeah, thanks, Spock," the captain said, and turned back to Dean.

"Wait, no," Dean said, surprising Cas – and Kirk, apparently. The man's brows furrowed as he gave Dean a confused look. "You should have your chess match. Go spend some time together." Then he turned to Sam, and stage-whispered, "Charlie would never forgive me if I messed with her OTP."

"OTP?" Kirk asked warily.

"You don't wanna know," Dean promised. "Go ahead and have fun with Spock. We'll still be around when you're done."

"Vulcans do not–" Spock started.

"Alright," Kirk interrupted. "See you guys later, then."

* * *

It was ridiculous how much paperwork med officers ended up with. Even when he was Chief of Surgery back in that goddamned hell-hole in Georgia, he'd never had to fill out these many ridiculous records. He was a scientist, damn it, and he knew how to write down relevant information, but the level of specificity Starfleet required was fucking ridiculous. "Time of first preliminary examination (four digits)" – why the hell did it make a difference? He'd determined the Ensign wasn't dying, gotten her out of the direct line of fire, defended his position from the group of bright orange natives who were mortally offended by the color of Jim's eyes, and gotten both himself and the crewwoman beamed up in time to stop the bleeding. He hadn't had time to check his fucking chronometer.

And sure, it wasn't the smoothest of First Contacts, but the course of events wasn't exactly anomalous, either. To be honest, he'd been guesstimating the "time of first preliminary examination" from the day they’d set off in this godforsaken tin can.

Leonard looked up when he heard his door swish open. "Hey, Bones," Jim greeted him, letting himself into his office. "You busy?"

"My answer won't make a damn bit of difference to you," he grumbled. "You’re going to say whatever you have to say anyway, so go ahead and sit down."

Jim sat down across from the doctor and paused for a second before speaking. "It's about our new guests."

Bones sighed and put his PADD down on the desk. When Jim sounded the way he did now, the conversation usually didn’t end until they’d each put a few glasses of Johnny Drum down the hatch. “What about ‘em?” He reached under his desk and pulled out the bourbon and two glasses that had been his grandmother’s, but surprisingly, Jim shook his head. Oh, so it was one of those talks. He put one of the glasses back, but kept the alcohol out and poured himself a glass.

“So you know they say they’re from the twenty-first century, right?” Jim asked.

“Yeah,” Bones replied as he took a sip. “Fucking ridiculous, if you ask me. Time travel just ain’t viable – or natural.”

“Well, they did,” Jim continued, ignoring him. “And apparently in the twenty-first century it was considered to be shameful if you weren’t straight.” His voice was hard, and his lips pressed into a tight line.

“All right,” Bones replied, carefully neutral. Jim would make his point eventually.

“So you know Dean’s really fucking hot, right?” Jim stated more than asked, and Bones started at the apparent change of subject.

“The one with the freckles, right?” he asked. Jim nodded. “Sure,” Bones said. “Doesn’t mean I’d fuck him. Especially since he called me ‘Dr. Sexy’. What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“It means he thinks you’re hot,” Jim said, waving a dismissive hand. “Can’t blame him, really. But that’s not relevant right now.” He took a deep breath. “Dean’s hot, and funny, and smart, and he knows his way around an engine – even a warp core engine, which is ridiculous because he’s never even seen one before. And–"

Bones groaned. “You’d better not be going and falling in love on me, kid.”

“No, no!” Jim replied, and he looked genuine, at least. “What I’m saying is he’s really attractive, in more ways than one. But–" Here he grimaced. “He thinks he’s straight.”

“So?” Leonard asked, shrugging. “He might be.”

“Well, yeah,” Jim replied. “But I see him eye-fucking that angel all the time, and I talked to his brother about it, too. Sam says Dean’s been repressing for – well, forever. And Sam’s around Dean basically all the time. Even now they say they’re more comfortable sleeping in the same room, and they moved a cot into Dean’s quarters. They’re so fucking codependent,” he grumbled. “But anyway, Sam says Dean’s been attracted to guys as well as girls since high school, but he’d never admit it because his ‘heterosexuality’ is so ingrained in his psyche Dean doesn’t even question it.”

“Okay,” Bones said. “So are you planning to do anything about it? I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”

“I didn’t think so either, at first,” Jim said. “But Dean’s a really attractive guy, and even more than that, he likes sex. And he’s missing out on a whole world of it. It’s my moral obligation–"

“You sure it’s not just that you want to fuck him?” Leonard interrupted.

Jim blushed slightly. “Well, there’s that too.”

Leonard groaned and let his head fall into his hands. “Someday you’ll learn to leave well enough alone, Jimmy.”

“Not today,” the captain replied, and gave him a cheeky grin.

“What do you want from me?” Len grumbled. “Why are you here?”

Jim shrugged. “You know how to read people. Better than I do, even. And you took a shit-ton of psych courses at the Academy. So I was wondering if you knew how I can help guide Dean on the course to self-realization.”

The doctor shook his head firmly, almost frantically. “You’re on your own on this one, kid. I ain’t messing around with y’all’s sex life.” His drawl was beginning to make an appearance, and Jim smirked.

Len scowled.

Jim gave him his very best puppy-dog eyes.

Leonard just shook his head again. He's grown immune after nigh on half a decade of that shit, thank you very much. “It’s none of my business,” he said. “I don’t think it’s any of yours, either, but there ain’t nothing I can do to stop you.” Jim just looked at him. “Get out of my office if you don’t want me to bend you over my knee, kid!” the doctor barked.

Jim stood and made his way to the door. “How do you know I don’t, Doctor?” he asked, and winked before disappearing out of the doorway.

Bones groaned and took the rest of his glass of bourbon like a shot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry it's late! We kind of got busy and lost track of time. But anyway enjoy!

The next morning, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy joined their three guests for breakfast.

"Hey, guys," Kirk said, sitting down next to Dean. "Sleep well on your first night aboard the Enterprise?" 

"Oh, we didn't have any trouble sleeping," Dean said. "Those mattresses are amazing."

"Only the best for guests on the Enterprise," Kirk said with a smile.

McCoy coughed.

"So what's the agenda for today, Captain?" Dean asked.

"You're going back to Engineering, Dean," Kirk answered. "And Spock, I was thinking you could take Sam and Cas and find out where their skills would be the most useful. Dean thinks Cas would do best in Communications or Science, but it's your call, Commander."

"Of course, Captain," Spock said, and he straightened slightly at Kirk's use of his title.

"I have bridge duty this morning, but I'll join you in Engineering this afternoon, Dean," Kirk added with a smile.

"Looking forward to it," Dean said, smiling back.

Spock stiffened and Cas wouldn't look up from the table. Sam and Bones sighed simultaneously and the doctor looked up at Sam, surprised. Dean and the captain could be such idiots sometimes.

When the silence started to become awkward, Sam coughed and said, "So. Um. Captain. I know this request is going to sound somewhat unconventional but do you have any, uh, guns or knives Dean and I could borrow?" 

Kirk's eyes shot from Dean to his brother. "Excuse me?" 

"Well, you see–" Sam started, but Dean cut in, giving Sam his patent _I got this_ look.

"We'd feel more comfortable with weapons we know how to use. Not that we couldn't figure out how to use a phaser. Normally we're like walking armories, but we got zapped here while we were sleeping and all our weapons got left behind. I feel like I'm naked. If you wanna know our real skill set, put a gun or a knife in our hands."

"Ji– Captain," Spock said. "I would advise against giving them possession of weapons of any kind. They are–" 

"Do you want us to help with the Klingons or not?" Dean interrupted, a little harshly. "You've got to trust us a little."

McCoy grunted. "That's a pretty tall order." 

"We don't have weapons like that on board," Kirk said, ignoring McCoy's comment. "But I can probably get you phasers."

"Captain, I do not think–" Spock started, but Kirk cut him off. 

"Spock. I know you've got your reasons for mistrusting these people. I even understand them. But honestly? Think about this logically. They already have the capability to destroy the ship and everything in it – and I got that from your own mouth, so don't you fucking deny it. If they were gonna kill us, they would have done it by now! A phaser or two isn't going to make a significant difference to their destructive capabilities as a unit—as individuals, yeah, which is why I'm inclined to give them a goddamn method to defend themselves if they get caught in a tight situation—but not as a unit. And if they were going to destroy the Enterprise or disable her crew – well, trust me," he said, letting out a little laugh, "they'd be doing it as a unit." 

Spock's lips thinned. "Captain, I would still advise–"

But Jim was on a roll. "And don't you fucking 'Captain' me, Spock! We've been at this for months now – me trying to draw you closer, into the kind of rapport a command team needs, and you're always pushing me away! We need a relationship outside of our professional one – and you're the one who started the chess games, so don't you say you don't know it. You need to stop doing it – I mean, look at us! Months, and you're still the only person on the bridge who doesn't call me by my first name when we're off-duty—I mean, except for Uhura, but that's an inside joke, really—come on, Spock! One day and Dean's got a closer relationship with me than we've built in the entire time we've known each other–" 

Jim was cut off by Spock abruptly standing and stepping away from the table. He was walking quickly to the door when he hesitated as if remembering something and turned back around. 

"Forgive me, Cap– Jim," he said, bowing his head respectfully before turning on his heel and walking out of the mess hall so fast he was practically running.

They all sat in stunned silence for a few moments after he left. 

McCoy was the first to break the silence. "Damn it, Jim. What did you do that for?" 

"What?" Jim asked defensively.

“You should go after him," Dean said. 

“Why?” Kirk asked, a little louder than was necessary. He unconsciously slumped a bit, hunching his shoulders defensively. 

“Because,” Dean said, waving his hands in a manner that was clearly intended to indicate some kind of emotion. 

The captain raised his eyebrow slightly, but didn’t smile.

“You should,” Dean insisted. He gave Kirk a little push on the shoulder. “Go on.” 

"He's right, Jim," Leonard said. "Now get your ass out of that chair before I pull it out from under you."

“No,” he replied, a little petulantly. “Not unless you can give me a good reason.” 

Sam sighed loudly. 

“He needs you,” Cas offered unexpectedly. “He has been emotionally compromised and requires both the authority of a captain and the support of a friend to ground him."

Jim turned to him, confusion creasing his features. “And why the hell is that? The whole problem’s that he isn’t feeling."

“I can assure you that he is,” Castiel replied.

“How do you know?”

“Empathy is a strange sensation, isn’t it?” Cas asked Sam, refusing to acknowledge Kirk’s question directly. 

"Do you have any idea what they're talking about?" Kirk asked Dean. 

"Not a clue." Dean was avoiding having to explain – Sam could tell. He was wearing his I'm-maneuvering-out-of-chick-flick-territory face.

"Look guys, even if I knew why you want me to go after him I couldn't because I have to be on the bridge in five minutes," Kirk said. "Scotty will be expecting you in Engineering, Dean. I'll see you all later."

He left hurriedly, and Sam could tell from the way his eyebrows furrowed that Kirk was just as blind as he wanted to be.

...which was pretty damn blind.

Well, fuck.

* * *

The Bridge was subzero all through Alpha shift that day.

As Jim checked their ETA with Chekov for the third time in twenty minutes (it was still 2100 hours tomorrow, no matter how many times he asked), he noticed Spock shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

It was the first expression of, well, anything since Jim's little outburst at breakfast, and before he could think better of it, he jumped on the opportunity. 

"Something to say, Commander Spock?" He kept his voice strictly professional, and Spock did not visibly react to his question. 

"Negative, Captain." 

Jim frowned. What was wrong with him, anyway? He hadn't said a thing all shift, even to report an anomaly in subspace readings that occurred almost an hour ago – and Jim knew it'd happened, because Uhura had called it out. Not before giving Spock the opportunity to do it first, though, because that was technically the Science Officer's duty.

He let it slide, for once. Somehow he sensed that Spock wouldn't do well with a confrontation, professional or otherwise, right about now. 

The Bridge temperature hadn't lifted by the time his shift ended, so he was still distracted when he walked into Engineering.

"Captain," Dean greeted, saluting him with a smile that did funny things to his stomach.

"Hey, Dean." Dean seemed to sense that he was distracted, so they spent the time in Engineering mostly in silence. 

Finally, Jim coughed awkwardly. They were each down to their waists in adjoining ventilation tubes, and their voices echoed as they talked. "Seriously, what's wrong with Spock?" 

"Hey, I have a policy," Dean's voice answered. "No chick flick moments unless one of us is dying or drunk."

"Chick–"

"Sappy movie."

"Seriously, Dean? You're labeling this conversation 'sappy' in a lame attempt to avoid talking about your feelings?"

"Oh, you're one to talk."

Jim popped out of his tube, a little surprised. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're the one who's acting all mopey instead of just talking to Spock." 

"I'm not mopey," Jim grumbled. 

"Whatever you say, man."

They ended up staying in Engineering until well after dinner, so they decided not to go down to the mess hall.

"Do you want to come have a drink with me in my quarters?" Jim asked. 

Dean shrugged. “Sure. Can I tell Sammy first though? Don’t want him to freak when I don’t show up. Not that he usually does, but this is kind of a unique situation."

“Sure,” Jim replied. “You can use my comm if you want to.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, accepting it out of his hand and flipping it open. He grinned at the chirping sound it made.

Jim shot him a sideways glance.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “Now..." He looked down at the device. “How do you work this exactly?”

Jim sighed dramatically, but couldn’t help his mouth quirking up at the sides. “Just say your last name to his last name. So... Winchester to Winchester. It should open a connection to your rooms."

“But I’m not programmed in yet, am I?” Dean asked.

“I got you three in yesterday,” he replied.

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause. “Winchester to Winchester,” he said into the comm unit.

“Sam here."

“I’m gonna go spend some time with the captain. Probably get drunk and shit. So don’t freak when I don’t show–" 

He could hear Sam’s snicker echo through the device. “Okay.” He laughed again. “Stay safe, kids. Don’t forget proper hygiene–"

Dean rolled his eyes, refusing to look at Jim. “You’re a bitch, you know that, Sammy?"

“Like you’re a jerk, Dean," came the predictable answer. 

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't wait up for me, alright?" Dean flipped the comm closed and turned to Jim, gesturing for him to lead the way.

* * *

"Welcome to my humble abode," said Jim. He ducked his head awkwardly, a strangely nervous flicker of a smile flitting across his face. It made Dean's breath catch in his throat.

He cleared it. What was wrong with him? "Humble? This is the captain's quarters on a starship." 

A slight blush rose to Jim's cheeks as he waved off the comment. "Yeah, but I'm still a regular guy. I don't ask for anything special in my quarters."

"Except for me, right?" Dean said with a wink.

He'd meant it as a joke, but Jim didn't seem to take it that way. He just looked at him for a moment and said, "Yeah. Except you."

Dean blinked.

Jim frowned.

"So," the captain said. "What d'ya like? I haven't got any real stuff in here – I usually sneak it from Bones or Scotty. I've programmed a subroutine into my replicator for the plainer alcoholic beverages—haven't figured out how to do the Saurian stuff yet, which is a shame—anyway, it always tastes a little off. The whiskey's decent, though." He shrugged.

"I'll just have whatever you're having," Dean answered. 

"Alright," Jim said, turning to the replicator. When he turned back around with the drinks, Dean was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. "Go ahead and sit," he told him.

"Right. Thanks." Dean sat down on the couch. Jim sat next to him and handed Dean his drink. "So," Dean said, then hesitated for a second before continuing, "What's up with the Klingons? I mean, no offense, but that doesn't seem like the type of problem that would normally call for reinforcements from God."

Jim sighed and took a sip of his drink before answering. "You're right. It's not. But this isn't an ordinary Klingon problem."

"What, then?" Dean's eyebrows knit together – because honestly, he'd spent his entire childhood watching this guy do his thing (well, the parts not spent killing things, protecting Sammy, finding food, fucking girls, and getting as goddamned shitfaced as he could without being too out of it to be there if his baby brother needed him).

Jim shook his head, as if he were trying to clear it. "It's... it's Sam, you know?" And he sounded so fucking young that Dean's heart gave a painful little squeeze in his chest.

Then the words registered.

"What?"

"My brother," Jim clarified, not looking up from the drink he was swirling around in his glass. "The planet we're going to go check out—Deneva Prime—that's where he's stationed."

Dean couldn't help it. He got stuck on that first bit.

"Your brother's name is George."

The captain finally looked up. "Well, yeah, but his middle name's Samuel. After my dad died, I couldn't–" He stopped there, and had the audacity to look ashamed. His gaze seemed drawn to the floor.

"Oh, no," Dean half-laughed, reaching over to lift Jim's chin and make him look at him. "This guy here? The stunningly handsome one sitting right next to you?" Jim's mouth twitched up the tiniest bit. "He has the most unhealthy, fucking codependent relationship with his brother you can imagine. And I have watched him–" His voice hitched, but he soldiered on. "I have watched him die, go through things more terrible than you can fathom – hell, most of it was my fault, in the end. I mean, we made it through, but we have both gone through some literal hell – mostly for each other. You don't get to be ashamed for worrying the Klingons have your Sam."

Jim finally made eye contact. "Okay." He took a shaky breath. "Okay," he repeated more firmly, and Dean saw a resolution form in his eyes.

Dean nodded with almost military formality, retracting the hand he had just realized was still on the captain's face. "So."

"So," Jim echoed, and Dean wondered if he hadn't broken the guy. Ha – as if. Him, break the great James T. Kirk? He didn't think so.

Then Jim chugged his entire glass of whiskey, and he wasn't so sure. "So," he said again, much more loudly this time. "Do you know how to play 3-D chess?"

Dean groaned. "Is that the only way you know how to communicate?"

Tragically, he could not hold his ground against the patent Jim Kirk baby blues.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But only as long as you go easy on me."

* * *

Spock returned to his quarters that evening to find them not as peaceful as he had expected. One of his walls was emitting unpredictable bursts of noise.

"That's not going easy!" was one of the few complete sentences he managed to discern – this one registered as a high-pitched noise, not unlike a child's excited squeal.

Most of the sounds, however, were easily identifiable as borderline raucous bursts of laughter. After a few moments of listening, he recognized the voices as belonging to Jim and the 'visitor' known as Dean Winchester.

He felt a crack in his emotional repression that he would normally solve by meditating, but he could hear the source of his emotional turmoil from his room and he was unsure where else to go. Trying to ignore it as well as he could, he started to change out of his uniform.

But then he heard something come through the wall that cracked his armor even further. 

"Check mate."

Dean and the captain were playing chess. It was an innocent enough thing to do, but it wounded Spock in ways even he didn't understand. 

The night wore on and Spock could still hear Dean in Jim's room. From the sound of it, both men were clearly inebriated. And then, more horrifying and heartbreaking than anything he'd heard yet, he heard the unmistakable sounds of sex. This time his armor didn't just crack, it shattered.

Illogically, Spock covered his ears with his pillow—anything to drown out the sound—but it didn't work. 

"Dean!" Kirk moaned. It was becoming too much to bear.

"God, Jim," Winchester panted. Spock curled into a ball at the sound of the captain's—his captain's—first name being spoken in such a manner. "I—holy shit, feels good—I've never—fucking hell, right there—never done this before–" 

Spock couldn't hear what Jim said in response (it was too quiet), but suddenly he was at the door to the bathroom, his fists clenched so hard the tips of his fingers went white. One of the two men let out a wholly indecent groan, and Spock stopped himself from opening the door. This was – was – he should not be doing this. Jim (no, the captain) had every right to be– 

He surprised himself with a growl. No, Jim did not have the right to be engaging in sexual intercourse. He did not, he could not, Spock would not let him.

But he was not Spock's to command.

Regulations, his mind insisted where it was floating somewhere off in the distance. Quote regulations, find a rule against it. 

But there were none.

Helplessly, he retreated back to his bed and curled back into a ball. He didn't get any sleep that night.

* * *

The next morning, Dean woke to find the captain's sleeping face just inches from his. It startled him for a moment and then memories of the night before came flooding back.

"Oh, God," he groaned, rolling onto his back. "What've I done?" 

He felt Jim stir, and flinched away from the feel of the captain's skin moving against him. They were both naked (though relatively clean – Dean vaguely remembered something about Jim and a washcloth from when he finally drifted off to sleep the night before), leaving no room for the hope that it had all been a dream.

"Hey," Jim murmured sleepily, scooting closer to plant a lazy kiss on Dean's lips. 

Dean jerked away, scrambling out of the bed and falling flat on his ass on the floor. His ass, which was... oddly sore. 

...fuck. He hadn't remembered they'd gotten that far.

Now he did. 

And fuck him (well, don't) if it hadn't felt goddamned fucking awesome. 

"Dean?" Jim said in surprise, sitting up and peering down at him. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied awkwardly. "I just–"

Dean groaned, burying his burning face in his hands. It didn't help that he was hungover and had one hell of a headache. 

"Oh God," Jim said, standing. "You regret last night, don't you? This was a bad idea. We were both drunk and it's never a good idea when you're drunk–"

"It's not your fault," Dean interrupted, getting awkwardly to his feet. "It's just that I've never..." He pointedly avoided looking at Jim's conspicuously bare crotch, ignoring the blush sure to be reddening his face.

"Done it with a guy before?" Jim finished. "Yeah, I know." 

"I'm straight," Dean said, telling himself as much as he was telling Jim. "I like women. I'm not gay." 

Jim rolled his eyes. "Just because you like having sex with women doesn't mean you can't like having sex with men. There is a thing called bisexuality, you know. And in the modern age, pansexuality's even more common." He shrugged, seemingly sensing Dean's discomfort. "I'm pan," he offered. 

Dean felt a little better. This was James T. Kirk, after all. If he was pansexual, there really couldn't be anything wrong with it – not that he'd thought so before, but he'd just never... considered any of it in relation to himself. "Does this – am I bi?" 

Jim smiled gently. "Only you can say for sure. If I were to judge, I'd say so." He blushed, obviously recalling the night before. "But it's not my place to say."

Dean closed his eyes tightly. "I just – I need some time to think. Can I–" He motioned toward the bathroom. "I mean–"

"Sure," Jim replied easily. "I've got some painkillers in my desk when you're done."

"Thanks," Dean said, heading toward the door.

"Wait!" Jim called, catching his arm. "You don't regret it, do you? 'Cause I can back off, pretend it never happened if you want..." He trailed off, realizing he was babbling.

"I don't, really," Dean replied. "It was... educational."

Jim laughed.

"And fun," Dean added.

Jim smiled.

Dean turned away, grinning despite his headache. The bathroom door slid open at his approach, and he stepped inside.

He took a piss, washed up in the sink because that shower was damned confusing, and was about to return to Jim's room when the other bathroom door slid open and he found himself face-to-face with Spock. He was suddenly painfully aware of just how naked he still was. Spock's face was turning turning dark green to match Dean's bright red one and neither man said anything for a moment, both too stunned to speak.

Spock was the first one to break the awkward silence. "Excuse me," he muttered and retreated quickly back into his room. By the time he was gone, Dean was already almost tripping over himself to get back to Jim's room.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked when he saw Dean's face.

“I – I just–" Dean stuttered, staring wide-eyed at the man. How could he have forgotten? Jim was – well, not exactly taken, but definitely claimed.

“What?” Jim asked more insistently.

“I–" He still couldn’t speak. “Damn it!” Dean shouted suddenly, slamming his hand onto Jim’s table in an effort to dissipate some of the tension. “I’m so, so sorry, and this won’t happen again, I promise. I’d totally forgotten, don’t know how I managed to do that when Charlie’s on about it all the time, I’ll stay away from you, I swear, just tell him not to kill me and please, please go follow him right now, it’s gotta be hurting like a bitch, you can’t let him hurt like that, you have to go explain, tell him it was nothing–"

He was shocked silent by Jim’s gentle kiss.

“What are you talking about?” The captain murmured as he pulled away from Dean’s frozen form. He ran his hands up and down his arms, making Dean shiver. Blue eyes met green and Dean could feel his heart speeding up—he had to stop this, right fucking now, because damn, Spock was out there, hurting, and he was Commander fucking Spock, damn it, and him freaking out—because Dean knew he would—was unacceptable.

“Spock,” Dean hissed at him, but it came out throatier than he’d intended.

Jim flinched and let his hands fall to his sides. “What about him?” He sounded as suspicious as Dean had ever heard him.

“He’s – you’re–" Dean suddenly stopped, obviously confused. “You’re not?”

“We’re not what?” Jim asked.

“You know…” Dean made the same hand gesture he’d tried yesterday.

Jim did not know.

“Together?” Dean squeaked.

"Together?" Jim repeated. "Me and Spock? No. What gave you that idea?"

"Nothing. Forget I even said anything. You know what? I've gotta go. Scotty's probably expecting me in Engineering soon," he said, picking his pants off the ground where they'd been thrown the night before.

"Dean, wait."

"Don't worry about it." Just because the captain didn't see it, didn't mean that Dean couldn't. They may not be a couple, but Spock clearly had feelings for Jim and he didn't want to get in the way of that. "I'll see you around."

"Dean–" But the door was already swishing shut behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Dean walked into the guest quarters, Cas could could tell something was off.

"You wanna go get some breakfast?" Sam asked.

"Well..." Dean started. Cas moved closer to him, trying to figure out what was amiss.

"Cas, we talked about this. Personal space, remember?"

He was finally close enough to recognize what was wrong. He could smell it. "You had intercourse last night."

"What?" Dean said, looking nervous. "No, I didn't!"

"I can smell it on you, Dean."

"Okay, creepy."

"You had sex with Kirk?" Sam asked incredulously. Cas found that sentence hurt more than he thought it would. Dean had sex with a lot of people. Why was this different?

"Well..." Dean studied the floor intently as a blush rose to his cheeks.

Sam burst out laughing, which Cas found very confusing.

Apparently Dean did as well. "What the fuck, Sammy?" he scowled. "This isn't funny!"

"Dean, only you would realize you're attracted to guys by having sex with one of your favorite fictional characters," Sam laughed. "Not so fictional anymore, I guess."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, his cheeks still bright red. "We were drunk and it was just a one night thing. Besides I'm pretty sure Spock would kill me if it turned into more than that."

"They're not a couple, are they?" Sam asked. "Because if they are–"

"No, no," Dean assured him. "But there're definitely feelings there."

"I'll say," Sam agreed. "The way Spock looks at Kirk is like–" He cut himself off abruptly, glancing pointedly at Cas.

"What?" Dean asked when Sam didn't resume talking.

"Nothing. Let's just go get breakfast."

Dean shook his head. "You guys go on ahead. I need to crash for a few more hours – guy speared me worse than that crazy vamp with the bayonet in Miami."

His eyes widened as he realized what he just said, then narrowed as he saw Sam silently laughing so hard he was shaking. "Fuck you, Sammy."

"No, Kirk fucked  _you_ , Dean," he retorted, catching his breath.

"Will you just shut up about it already? Go and get your damn breakfast."

"Fine, Jerk," Sam said, still laughing as he left.

"Bitch!" Dean called after him.

* * *

When Spock reported for bridge duty that morning, he was visibly upset, despite the fact that he was obviously trying not to let his emotions show through. He didn't look Jim in the eye and he didn't even greet him with his usual pleasant "Captain" before heading to the science station. Instead, he kept his eyes down and walked swiftly past Jim without even a glance.

"Hey, Spock," Jim said, confused. What was up with him this morning?

Spock was silent for a long moment, and for a second Jim was sure he wasn't going to respond – but Spock was nothing if not professional. "Yes, Captain?" he asked, not looking away from his station.

"Morning," Jim tried, shooting him a sunny smile even though he wasn't looking.

Spock said nothing, and Jim caught Uhura glancing between them suspiciously at his odd behavior.

The rest of shift was somewhat tense, needless to say.

As soon as it was over, Uhura followed Jim into the turbolift. As soon as the doors closed, she smashed the button to stop it and turned to him with a glare.

"What the hell did you do to Spock?" she spat.

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen him act like that since... since before mission start! That was the most uncomfortable shift we've had this entire time, and–"

"You think it has something to do with me," Jim sighed.

"Yes. I may not be  _you_  to him, but I can tell when he's hurting, and when he shuts down like that–"

"Wait what do you mean by that?" Jim interrupted.

"By what?" Uhura asked

"'I may not be you to him'," Jim said. "What does that even mean?"

"Do you really not know?" She raised an eyebrow at him – damn, he was going to have to do something about all of the eyebrow sass going on on this ship. It was getting out of hand.

"Know what?"

"Spock cares about you. A lot."

Jim shook his head at her. She went for the eyebrow again, and he hastened to explain. "No, I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm just saying that just because I'm his friend doesn't mean–"

Uhura scoffed. "You think I mean your friendship? God, you're dense. I mean, I know it's willful ignorance, but  _wow_." She sighed. "No, Kirk, I'm not talking about the fact that you're Spock's friend –  _I'm_  Spock's friend. No, I'm saying that he's entirely enamored with everything from your assholishness to your ass, and whatever you did to hurt him, you'd better go fix it right now, or I swear I will make your life hell until you do."

Jim stared blankly at her. Where the hell had she gotten that idea? Was it Dean's jokes? Maybe she'd overheard and assumed there was something between him and Spock – something that definitely  _was not there_ , because he'd like to think he'd be aware of it, thanks. And in any case, whatever got Spock all pissy wasn't his priority right now, no matter what kind of torture his CCO threatened. He needed to get ready for arrival, prep his equipment, and psychologically center himself  _before_  he got stuck in the high-pressure and probably life-threatening situation they were sure to find when they dropped out of warp.

...his mouth had other ideas.

"Are you saying Spock is  _in love_  with me?"

"I'm just saying you need to be more conscious of his feelings. Just because he tries to hide them doesn't mean he doesn't have them."

Uhura pressed the button again, letting the turbolift move. Jim just stared at her, unable to come up with a response to what she just said.

* * *

Jim was supposed to be going down to Engineering, but instead he found himself walking to Medical and straight into Bones's office.

"Jim? What is it? We're supposed to be prepping for arrival – I've got to finish checking over these inventory lists before then, and then I've got five annual physicals that can't be put off more than another few days before I can beam down," Bones said, frowning.

"Do you think Spock is in love with me?" Jim blurted.

Bones sighed deeply and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Jim, we don't have time for this conversation right now. We're arriving at Deneva in a few hours."

"Please, Bones?"

"Alright, take a seat." He put the PADD he'd been working on aside, and clasped his hands together on the desk.

Jim sat.

Bones coughed.

Jim shifted in his chair.

"Spock," Leonard eventually started, "Is a unique individual. I hate what he's done to himself with his Surakian suppression shit, and he drives me out of my mind half the time, but even I can see he's got feelings for you. I don't know about love – hell, I don't even know if the hobgoblin's capable of love for anyone but his Mama, but there's definitely something there."

"In that case, I think I know why he's upset."

"What did you do?"

"Remember my plan to introduce Dean to the awesomeness of the other half–" He shook his head, considering. "One of the other thirds of the world of sex?"

Bones groaned. "Damn it, Jim. Tell me you didn't."

He at least had the decency to look sheepish. "I did."

Bones grabbed his PADD, violently opening another inventory chart. "Kid, I swear you'll be the death of me. How many times did I tell you not to interfere – don't answer that. Why the hell would you–" He took a deep breath. "Spock heard, didn't he? That you banged Winchester One?"

"I guess so. That's the only thing I can think of that would explain his behavior. He wouldn't even look at me on the Bridge today. I screwed up bad, Bones, what do I do?"

Bones sighed deeply and put down the PADD. "Look at me, Jim. You need to decide how  _you_  feel. Because until you know that then I can't help you."

Damn it. Bones  _always_  knew what to do, always had advice for Jim – even when he didn't want to hear it. He knew what Jim needed before Jim did, most times, and the fact that he didn't now... well, it wasn't exactly comforting.

* * *

The tension on the bridge was tangible as they approached Deneva and Jim knew it had very little to do with the mission. This was definitely not a good way to start a mission, but Jim didn't see what he could do with only a few minutes left until arrival. And right now he was too worried about Sam to think about anything other than the mission, so the Spock problem was going to have to wait.

He'd been distracting himself, he knew. The thing with Dean... wasn't uncharacteristic for Jim, and he really liked the guy, but his near-obsession with Dean really wasn't normal for him. Jim had always had issues with his feelings for Sam – some brother he was, running off as soon as he could and leaving Jim to deal with Frank alone – but Sam was his brother, damn it, and he still loved him, whether he wanted to or not.

"Preparing to drop out of warp," Sulu informed the bridge. Jim's heart was hammering in his chest as he prepared himself for what they might see. He knew it probably wouldn't be that bad, but he was prepared for the worst.

Then he saw it, and his heart jumped out of his chest.

* * *

The city was... a ruin. That was the only word Spock could think of to describe it. A quick scan of the surface revealed several humanoid life signs in the vicinity – but only a few hundred at most, nothing compared to the 12.57 million inhabitants who lived in the city before communications were severed.

He informed the bridge of such.

"Spock, any ships in the vicinity?"

"No, Captain."

"Then we need a team on the surface to start locating survivors and transporting them to the Enterprise. Lieutenant Uhura, get our guests to meet me in the transporter room," Jim said.

"Yes, sir."

"Captain–" Spock began, but Jim cut him off.

"Your concerns are noted, Mr. Spock. With me."

He pressed the button on his chair's comm. "Kirk to McCoy. Bones, meet me in the transporter room. I need you on the away team."

"I'll be right there."

"Sulu, you have the conn. Set up continual long-range scans for the Klingon ship or ships. They've obviously been here already, but that doesn't mean they won't be back, so contact me if they show up," he said, then he stalked away, Spock following a half step behind.

They arrived in the transporter room at the same time as the doctor, and Dean, Sam, and Cas weren't far behind.

"It's about time I gave you these," he told them, handing them each a phaser.

"Thank you, but I'd prefer to use my angel blade," Cas said, pulling a long silver dagger out of his trench coat.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" Kirk exclaimed. "I thought we searched you for weapons when we first contained you! I'm not wrong about this, am I? Spock?"

"You are correct, Captain. We searched each one of the prisoners for weapons before attempting to contain them in the brig," Spock confirmed.

"Well, no one said we couldn't keep a few tricks up our sleeves," Dean said, smiling at his own joke.

"Dude."

"What?" he asked, turning to Sam.

"That was possibly the worst pun I've heard in my life. And the worst timing," Sam added as an afterthought, sending Jim a pointed glance.

"We're wasting time," Kirk said, and Dean noticed his distinct lack of smile.

...oh, yeah. His brother's down there. If it were Dean's Sammy in the fix, he would have been shooting daggers at anyone who joked around during the rescue mission.

"Scotty, six to beam down," Kirk continued, pointedly not looking anyone in the eye.

"Aye, Cap'n."

Despite himself, Dean couldn't help but be a little bit excited as they stepped onto the transporter pad. He'd always wanted to do this, but they were on a serious mission right now. As he felt himself tingle out of existence, his eyes turned of their own accord to Castiel, who looked oddly comfortable with this mode of transport. Was this how angels experienced their popping back and forth?

He would never know, Dean supposed.

They materialized in the middle of what could only be described as utter decimation. It was eerily quiet, with only the occasional moan of the wounded breaking the silence. And wounded there were – five that Dean could see, three he could tell were beyond his battlefield medicinal skills, and one who was, for all intents and purposes, dead. That kind of bleeding out of that kind of leg wound... well. If he couldn't get the injured somewhere safe to operate—if fishing line and a sewing needle counted as operating—then he couldn't save him, could he?

"My God, it's worse than I expected," McCoy said, mostly to himself. "At least these ones are saveable."

Ah, twenty-third century medicine.

"Start locating survivors and having Scotty beam them up," Kirk ordered. "We need to get these civilians out of here as soon as possible."

Twenty-third century transportation, too. Morbidly useful. Not that Dean had the right to call much of anything morbid, not after all he's done.

Kirk glared at Dean. "Winchester. Fan out, search for survivors. Stick in pairs – you're with your brother. Spock, with Castiel. Bones–"

"Got it, Jim."

"Wait," Dean said.

"What?!" Jim almost-shouted. "People are dying here! We don't have time–"

"No," Dean said, and he used his hunting voice. "We don't. But there might still be Klingons down here. First rule of the battlefield, make sure you've got a safe location before you go off being heroic and saving other people. I know you want to find your brother—can't blame you—but the safety of the rescue party comes first." When Jim opened his mouth to speak, Dean plowed on. "Else who's gonna save them? I can't declare you unfit for duty – I wouldn't if I could, because I know how that feels when it's your fucking family on the line, but I will say that you are emotionally compromised and that if you don't listen to me right now, I will knock you the fuck out and go save George on my own, you hear me?"

Dean almost wasn't surprised when Jim nodded.

"Okay, first," Dean said, directing his orders to the others now, "Sam, go search out a temporary base. You know what to look for. Spock, you cover him. Cas, help me get those wounded over here. Don't heal them yet – save your strength. McCoy, do what you can, and get Cas to do what you can't. Only beam up the ones who need it the most – even the Enterprise has got limited capacity, and Chapel's only got so many surgeons. And Cas – be on the lookout. Klingon's aren't as quick as demons but they've got long-range weapons. McCoy, describe them to him so he'll know what he's looking for. Kirk, we're going to scout for the enemy in a circular pattern. We come across any wounded, we're going to direct them back here and keep going. If they can't walk, we'll show one who's strong enough to carry them where they are. Okay?"

"Okay," Jim said, sounding oddly quiet. Dean looked down to see that his hands were shaking.

He took them in his. "We're going to be okay," Dean said. "This is going to work. I can't tell you if we'll find George, but we're sure as hell not giving up on him without a fight. You hear me?"

Jim nodded.

"Okay, let's go," Dean said, putting his hunting voice back on. He gestured to Jim, and they made their way into the rubble.

* * *

As time wore on and they sent more and more survivors back to Cas and McCoy—and came across more and more corpses, though no Klingons yet—Jim was getting steadily more anxious to find his brother. After a while Dean stopped and turned to him.

"Hey, man, don't worry. We'll find him. You've gotta focus."

"I know," Jim said. "It's just—I just–"

"Is somebody there?" a voice called out. It seemed to be coming from a pile of rubble. Jim and Dean rushed to the pile and began throwing rocks out of the way until finally they uncovered a man and a boy, trapped between the rubble and what was left of a building's wall.

"Sam?" Jim exclaimed. "Sam!"

The man squinted – head injury. "Jimmy?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me," Jim said excitedly. "Just hold on a minute – we'll get you out of here."

"Jimmy," George repeated, giving a sad smile. "I'm so sorry–" His words were beginning to slur.

"No, no, it's okay," Jim said, throwing the remainder of the rubble aside. His voice now held a hint of nervousness. "Just tell me where you and Peter are hurt, we'll get you back to the beam-up point–"

He stopped talking when George closed his eyes.

"Hey!" Dean barked, snapping his fingers in George's face before moving to pick the boy—Peter—up. "Stay awake – Jim, keep him awake! I don't have the training or equipment to deal with head wounds, he needs to stay alert until–"

Jim started at the unmistakable sound of a phaser shot.

Dean stared hard into the area behind them, his discharged phaser held in both hands. Jim turned to see a stunned Klingon laying on the ground just behind a wall that was still mostly standing. He drew his phaser, too, but Dean shook his head.

"It looks like it was just the one, but there have to be others somewhere nearby. We need to get Sam and Peter and get back to camp, now."

He pulled out his communicator. "Winchester to McCoy."

"McCoy here."

"We've got a stunned Klingon and two wounded here – we need the captive to figure out what the hell is going on here, but–"

"No way in hell," Jim snarled. "We're not leaving them."

"I wasn't suggesting it," Dean said, his voice strangely calm. "McCoy, could you send Cas over here? We need–"

Phaser fire echoed through the speakers. Jim waited breathlessly as he helped Sam to his feet – only for the man to collapse again. At least this time it was into Jim's arms.

"No can do," McCoy's voice said. "We've got hostiles here—Castiel's holding them off—Damn it kid, dodge the shots, don't just plow right through them!—but I'm halfway through repairing a snapped neck, I can't just–"

The sound cut off abruptly.

"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed.

From the area near his feet, a small voice piped up. "I can walk."

Problem solved.

"Winchester to Winchester. Where are you, Sammy? Have you and Spock found a good place yet? We found Kirk's brother and nephew and need to get them to safety."

"We've found a building to the east of where we started," Sam answered. "We're almost done scouting out the area and it doesn't look like there are any Klingons around."

"Good," Dean replied. "Get back to the beam-down point asap – sounds like Cas and Bones ran into some trouble with the Klingons, but I don't know how bad it is. Their phones—damn it, communicators—aren't working, but that could just be Cas, I don't know."

"On our way," Sam said, and cut the signal.

"Okay, let's go," Jim said, placing George's arm carefully around his shoulder.

* * *

With George as injured as he was, they weren't able to travel very quickly, so it was a long slow walk to the base Sam and Spock had found. When they were about halfway there, George stopped them.

"Wait, Jim stop," he said, sounding like it took every ounce of his energy to do it.

"What is it, Sam? We have to keep moving."

"I don't think I can make it," he breathed.

"We're not leaving you behind," Jim growled.

"You have to. We're moving too slowly. You have to get my son to safety." The last part was barely a whisper and his eyes began to shut. Jim barely managed to hold him up as he began to collapse again.

"Sam? Sam! Stay with me, Sam, I know you can make it – you have to! You can't just leave me again–"

George let out a breathy chuckle. "Don't you pull the pity card on me, Jimmy, I can see right through you. Always could." He took a rasping breath, and Jim let out a little sob. "Just--look after Pete for me, will you?"

And with one last sigh, he fell silent.

"No," Jim said. "No. This isn't happening." He tried to sound resolute, but his voice came out undeniably shaky.

"What's not happening?" Peter asked. "Why did Dad stop talking? He _never_  stops talking unless Mom tells him to."

"Peter," Jim said. "Your dad, he – he, uh, he's..." But he couldn't get the words out. He was too busy trying not to choke on his tears.

Dean's heart gave a tug of empathy. He knelt down in front of Peter and put his hand on his shoulder, just like he had that one time when he'd had to explain to Sammy why they didn't have a mom even though everyone else did. "Your dad didn't make it," he said as gently as he could. "He's dead."


End file.
